


Could've Been

by ChaoticNeurosis



Series: SPN One-Shots [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Bittersweet Ending - Sort of, Breakup, F/M, Open Ending, Regret, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24099412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticNeurosis/pseuds/ChaoticNeurosis
Summary: They left so many things unsaid, unfinished, and unresolved.Neither of them have moved on. Both have been drinking to cope.Both want nothing more than to either have some closure - or resolve everything.Both keep thinking what could've been if they had just stopped fighting and started talking.What could've been....
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Female Reader - Relationship, Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Series: SPN One-Shots [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703326
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Could've Been

**Author's Note:**

> Written to the song "What Could've Been" by Gone West  
> Lyrics are **bold**  
> Flashbacks are in {...}

**I haven't stopped thinking about you**

**Has it really been this long?**

**Two years and an ocean between us**

**And I don't know where it all went wrong.**

* * *

She shot down another tequila, hissing at the after burn, her thoughts on one man. It had been a whole 2 years since they said the final goodbye, but she just couldn't seem to let him go. He kept coming back up. Either she'd run into someone who thought they were still together, or she'd do something that reminded her of him. Or she'd say something that she had picked up from him. He had become her whole world, and she had no idea where all the passion - the excitement, the love - went. They had woken up one day to find they no longer held each other and no longer wanted to be together. He had looked at her as if she were a stranger, and maybe they were after slowly falling apart. 

Whatever had happened, whatever had been the final tick in the box, she thought about Dean Winchester every day of her life. She had initially put as much space between them as possible as she tore away from the bunker faster than she had ever driven before. The final fight was the last straw. She had packed up what she could and pealed out, not even giving Sam an explanation as to what was happening. He had stood in the library, confused as hell, as to where she was going or what had happened. She wished she had a good enough reason. 

* * *

Dean sat at one of the tables in the library, whiskey glass in hand, the bottle close by. He hadn't been this miserable since he said goodbye to Lisa for the last time. But he couldn't chase away the thoughts of _her_ no matter how much alcohol he drank - no matter how much he tried to distract himself with countless hunts, staying busier than he knew was sane. He tried to drown away her memory, but he couldn't. The smallest thing would trigger an onslaught of memories and his heart would ache as if it were about to implode. 

He held his phone in his hand, staring at the number he had sworn he would delete, but every time his thumb hovered over 'delete contact,' he couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe one day she'd call. Maybe she'd want to come back home. He just couldn't bring himself to say goodbye. 

* * *

* * *

**Shoulda talked a little bit softer**

**But we meant every "I love you"**

* * *

{ She slammed the bedroom door as he approached it, the barrier banging shut in his face. Dean set his jaw and nearly knocked the door down to get to the other side. She was pacing the room, arms crossed over her chest, her face red with fury. He slammed the door shut again, his hands on his hips, lips pursed, not done with what they were discussing.

"Y/N. I'm not saying it again. You pull another stunt like that, and you're never leaving this bunker again. You got it?" 

"For fuck's sake, Dean, I'm not child! You're acting like some over-protective father whose kid has been playing with dynamite! Well, I'm not a kid, Dean! And you sure as hell ain't my dad!" 

Dean stormed forward, raising an arm, pointing in the direction of the bunker's door. "You nearly got yourself killed out there, and for what?! Bonus points?! Because there is no sane reason for what you did! And I would treat _any_ hunter the same way. _Not_ just you! Even if Sam pulled that stunt, he would get the same damn speech!" 

"You can't protect me from everything, Dean! I know you wanna save everyone, but damn it, sometimes people get hurt! And, whether you like it or not, there's a possibility that I, or Sammy, will die one day at the hands of some monster!" She paused, staring glass daggers at Dean, whose face had gone completely slack, shock from her words flooding through him. "I knew what I was doing. A little trust from you would be nice." 

"It's not that I don't trust you, Y/N, but I can't..." Dean sighed and ran a hand down his face, shaking his head and looking at the floor. 

"You can't _what_ , Dean?"

"I can't fucking lose you, okay?!" he yelled. "I can't lose you, I can't lose Sam, and I can't lose Cas! Because I love you, damn it! _All_ of you!" 

She stopped yelling. She stood with her arms limp at her sides, her head slightly cocked, brow furrowed. "You _what_?" she asked, softly. 

Dean swallowed before reiterating what he had screamed at her. "I love you, Y/N." 

"As-as what? A friend, a sister? What, Dean?" 

He closed his eyes, feeling the inner walls melt. "As much more than that. I can't lose you. It terrifies me. It would tear me apart, y/n/n." Dean sighed and raised his gaze toward her again. "So yeah. Maybe I overreact, but all I want is to protect you." 

"Dean," she whispered, now fully understanding why he was acting in this way. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"It seemed better this way."

She shook her head. "I don't understand how." She approached him, taking his face in her gentle hands. "Dean, I love you too." }

* * *

She sighed as she scratched at a nonexistent itch on her forearm. As many times as they fought, they had said 'I love you' a million times more, even if those specific words weren't iterated. It was the little things, even. Like the way Dean would already have her coffee poured before she walked into the kitchen. How she knew how stressed Dean was getting and would rub his shoulders to help him relax. Sticky notes on certain pages in research to indicate if it was a possible lead. Even asking if the other wanted the last piece of whatever pie was in the kitchen. 

It was even the chaste kisses they stole in passing. A simple reassuring touch. Letting her choose the music even if he was driving. Letting him choose the same stupid movie when they'd seen it a thousand times already. 

The 'I love you's' outweighed the fights, but they had both held on to the anger. 

She wished she would have apologized for yelling at him the way she had. It was out of line, even if she disagreed with him over something. It was no excuse to treat him the way she had. Dean just wanted to do what was right, even if it was misguided sense of the correct choice. She could have at least helped straighten things out. But now. She had gotten fed up and, in a temper tantrum, she ran out. 

Even as Dean was calling for her to stop - to talk to him - to wait till she had calmed down because she was acting irrationally. 

But as much as Y/N loved him, she somehow couldn't stop herself from walking out that door and driving away.

* * *

* * *

**A couple more simple I'm sorry's**

**A little less trying to be right**

**I wonder how many good mornings we wasted cause we didn't say 'goodnight'**

* * *

{ It was late. They were fighting again, and Sam sighed as he heard his brother and Y/N getting into another argument. So, Sam left the bunker, knowing that in a few hours, they would stop fighting and go to bed. 

"Why do you always have to be right?! Why do we always have to follow _your_ plan?!" She jabbed a finger into his chest.

"Because my plan doesn't end with someone doing something stupid!" 

"We're back to that now?!" 

"No, that's not what I mean, Y/N. You know that's not what I mean!" Dean walked away before he said something he might regret, but she was close on his heels. 

"Where do you think you're going? We're not done here! You are not leaving this unfinished, Dean Winchester!"

Dean ignored her. He needed a drink. He needed to calm down. 

"Dean." 

He grabbed a glass and poured till it was half full. 

"Dean!" 

He took a drink and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and turned around. "Y/N. I'm this close to walking out that door. I've had it with this argument. It's a fucking weekly occurrence."

She stared up at him, seething. "Because you think you're always right, Dean, and that everyone else is wrong! No one can make you see reason once your mind is made up! You can ask Sam, or Cas! They'd say the same damn thing! I'm so fed up with it!" 

"Well if you're so fed up, nothing is preventing _you_ from walking out that door." His voice was level, but his emotions were the complete opposite. 

She just stared back, dumbstruck, at what he had just said to her. She balled her hands into fists, keeping herself from shaking. "Fuck you, Dean." 

That shocked him. She had never said that combination of words to _him_ before. He furrowed his brow, his mouth slightly agape, completely taken aback.

She turned on her heel and marched down the hall, slamming the bedroom door shut. 

Dean remained in the library, nursing his drink, thoughts running a million miles an hour through his head. Maybe she was right. Maybe he did need knocked down a few pegs. All he wanted to do was protect everyone he loved, and going through things his way assured that. But...maybe it came across completely different to her. And maybe Sam too. Either way, Dean felt like he had been sucker punched and knocked flat on the floor by three words - and they weren't the three words he wanted to hear from her. 

"Damn it," he mumbled. He had been completely out of line to tell her she could walk away if she wanted to. That wasn't what he wanted at all. It shouldn't even be an option for her, so why had he even said it. Why had he _thought_ it?

Dean cleaned out his glass and placed it back on the bar cart and walked to their room. 

He gently opened the door, hoping to talk to her. 

But she was already asleep. 

Dean changed into the sweats and t-shirt he usually wore to bed and crawled in beside her. He stared at the ceiling, hoping she would wake up and realize he was there. He just wanted to say he was sorry and sweep this all under the rug. 

But she didn't wake till morning. 

And they didn't even talk to each other the next morning - didn't look at each other. There was no happiness in the room. There wasn't even indifference. 

It was just...

Resentment. } 

* * *

Dean scrolled through pictures, reliving each memory he came to. The photos he snuck were his favorite. They were candid, no preparation, just completely in the moment. 

He stopped at one of his favorites and he slugged back the rest of the whiskey in his glass upon seeing it. 

She had just woken up. Her eyes were lit up in a sleepy smile, her hair falling and frizzy from the bun it had come out of. She wore one of his old band shirts and the blankets were pulled snugly around her face. Just her eyes peaked out from the nest she had made. She had been laughing, telling him to stop, that she looked horrible, but he 100% did not agree with that opinion. Dean thought she was gorgeous no matter what she wore or what she looked like. 

But with the happy memory the photo brought, Dean thought of the mornings they didn't even say 'good morning' to each other because they had gone to bed angry. Dean still wondered how everything had fallen apart - how the contentedness had shifted into constant frustration. Maybe it was the unspoken words or the way each of them tried to disguise what they were truly feeling after each close call. Maybe it was the little quirks that began to get under their skin and fester. Whatever it was, they had wasted too much time being bitter with each other. 

Dean wished more mornings had been like the one he now stared at. 

* * *

* * *

**I thought I'd see it clearly from a distance**

**But it still feels like we've got unfinished business**

* * *

She had left in such a rush that they never really had an 'end.' It was in a flurry of heated words and the feeling of 'I'm so over this shit.' Did she leave too hastily? There were so many things left unsaid, and there had been many late nights she had almost called him just to tell him the things she wanted to. At the time, she needed space to clear her head. She had intended to go back to him, but before she knew it, two years had gone by and she hadn't even tried to drive back to the bunker. 

Not even to get her things. 

Not even when she knew the boys weren't home. 

It wasn't even about avoiding Dean anymore. She _wanted_ him like she had wanted him in the beginning. 

In fact, she had never stopped wanting him - even in the middle of every argument, every disagreement, every time he insisted he was right and she was wrong. She knew he was just doing what he thought was the best way to keep everyone alive. It was the fact he decided not to listen to her when his mind was made up. If they had just _tried_ , they could have completely worked past that. 

"Another?" the bartender asked. 

She nodded "Yeah." 

She poured the tequila and leaned against the bar in front of her. "Trying to forget something?" 

"Something like that." Y/N shot it down and slid it over.

The bartender gave a sad smile as she refilled it. "Or is it some _one_?" 

"Yeah..."

"Hate to break it to ya, but you find what you're looking for at the bottom of this tequila bottle." 

"I can try, can't I?" She rolled the shot glass in her fingers and stared at the bar top. 

"Honey," the older woman said. "Whatever it is that happened, I'm sure it's not worth the bar bill you're wracking up."

She slammed a 100 dollar bill on the counter. "Keep 'em coming," she said, voice level and eyes still trained on the brown top of the bar. 

The bartender sighed and set up four shots, sliding two to Y/N and keeping the other two. She raised one shot and drank it down before slamming back the other one. "Alright. What did he do?" 

Y/N chuckled humorlessly. "How did you know." 

"Honey, you're not the first tortured soul I've seen walk through my door. So what did he do?" 

Y/N threw back one shot and gently cleared her throat. "It's more like what did we do to each other. Damn it..." she mumbled. "We just somehow fell apart. Couldn't get through to each other. Stopped talking, and when we _did_ talk, it was some old argument that we couldn't move past. Everything was completely fine - nothing in the world was wrong. But one day, it was different. _He_ was different. Maybe I was too - I don't know. There's so many things I just want to ask him - things I want to explain." 

The bartender nodded, a knowing look in her wiser eyes. "I see. Have you tried talking to him again?" 

Y/N shook her head. "No. I can't. He probably isn't even missing me, in all honesty. I helped make his life more of a hell than it already was." 

"Somehow I doubt that." 

"What makes you say that." 

The bartender patted Y/N's hands. "Because, honey. From what it sounds like, this is some massive misunderstanding. Stop looking at the most recent events. The problem is somewhere further back in the narrative." 

She sat there as the bartender walked away to the other end of the counter, helping another patron. 

* * *

* * *

**Looks like you're on the mend and I'm on the bottle**

* * *

{ Dean walked into the small convenience store as Sam waited by the car. It had been a long drive and they needed a pick-me-up before going to the rest of the way to whatever town they were headed to. Dean had lived in a fog since she left. He went day-to-day with a flask in his pocket, needing to drink just to numb the pain of watching her walk away. 

He rounded a corner.

And stopped dead in his tracks. 

All air was seemingly knocked from his lungs. He was frozen. Maybe he was hallucinating. 

But when she turned from the shelf she faced, she nearly dropped the basket of food in her hands. 

There was an awkward air as they stared at each other. 

"Uh." Y/N brushed back a strand of hair.

"Hi," Dean muttered. 

"Hi." 

Dean swallowed back the urge to reach into his coat and take out the flask. 

"How-how are you?" she asked, nerves coming through her words. 

"Uhm. We-we're okay. Hunting. Of course. How are you?"

She nodded, trying to keep up an appearance. "Doing good, actually. Hunting, same as you." 

"Oh? Alone?" He hoped not. 

"No." 

He internally sighed in relief.

"I've got some buddies I met a while back. We run a few of the neighboring states, making rounds a such." 

Dean nodded. "Good. That's...that's good."

"Yeah." 

There was an awkward pause. Then Sammy came around the corner, searching for a brother that should have been done by now. "Dean, there you are. What's the -" He stopped, seeing Y/N in the aisle. "...hold up. Y/N. Hi!" 

She smiled up at the younger Winchester. "Hey, Sammy." 

"It's good to see you!" 

"You too. I should, uh...I should get going." 

Sam nodded, a stupid grin on his face. "Yeah. Sure. It really is good to see you, Y/N." 

"You too, Sam." She paused, momentarily looking up at the man she loved with everything she had. "Dean," she mumbled. 

She skirted past the brothers and rushed to the counter. When she got back to her car, she opened the small bottle of tequila she kept on hand and tipped it back, swallowing down the alcohol to numb what she was feeling. Dean looked like he was faring okay. He didn't need her after all. 

Dean felt paralyzed after Y/N walked away. It took his brother pulling him away to get him out of the store. She looked good. Maybe even happy? She had moved on while he was drowning himself in whiskey. One of them needed to be on the mend. It was good it was her. }

* * *

* * *

This was crazy. It wouldn't work. She knew it was pointless, but she was drunk and she wanted nothing more than to see him. She wasn't that far away anyway. So, Y/N got in her car, peeled away from the bar she had sat in for the past 5 hours, and sped toward the only place she wanted to call home. Her heart was pounding, nerves and unspoken words flooding through her. She wanted to apologize for everything and just hold him again - to feel his lips on hers and his arms around her, making him feel like the safest place in the universe. 

She swerved as a deer almost committed suicide, cursed a string of expletives, and continued speeding down the highway. 

**Cause baby we left**

**Blood on the tracks**

**Sweat on the saddle**

**Fire in the hills**

**A bullet in the barrel**

**Words never said in a story that didn't end**

Dean's thumb hovered over 'call' next to her contact. There were too many whiskeys in his system to be thinking rationally, but...

Maybe. Just maybe she'd answer. 

Maybe she'd come back to him to listen to everything he wanted to say. Everything he _didn't_ say. 

Before she had stormed out, Dean had imagined his life with her until the days they were old and gray. He imagined a life with her - a life he hopelessly pined for. Their lives together weren't over. 

So he tapped the command, put the phone to his ear, and listened to it ring. 

And ring. 

And ring. 

Until it stopped ringing and a shaky breath answered him. 

"Y/N?" he murmured through the phone. 

There was a harsh knock on the bunker door. 

Dean stood and stumbled up the stairs to the door. 

As he heaved the door open, he nearly fell over. 

She stood outside, the phone to her ear, tears in her gorgeous eyes. "Hi," she whispered. 

**Tried moving on but I keep coming back again**

**To what could've been**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
